Blood Rites
by Kiryki
Summary: Modern Fantasy AU: When a woman is found brutally murdered and surrounded by runes drawn in her own blood, Agent Lisbon hires the wizard Patrick Jane to consult on the case and gets involved in a lot more than she bargained for. Inspired by 'The Dresden Files.'
1. In Which Lisbon Hires A Consultant

**A/N: **Alright so, this is very much an AU fic. Categorically I'd call it Modern Fantasy since I'm drawing inspiration from both Constantine and The Dresden Files for this. I'm really hoping this goes well as this is my first fic in ten years and I'm nervous as hell. Thank you so much to TheAmethystRiddle for being my beta! This is probably going to be a bit of a long fic, but I have it 80% plotted out so I know where it's going. This is going to be T for now due to dead bodies and rest, just fyi. Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading and please review!

**Trigger Warnings:** gore, dead body description

**Blood Rites**

**Chapter One: In Which Lisbon Hires A Consultant**

The red and blue lights of the police car flashed starkly over the stucco walls of the classic 1950s bungalow it was parked in front of. It was still dark as Agent Teresa Lisbon pulled the SUV up in front of the cordoned-off house, the headlights briefly illuminating a few uniformed officers talking to neighbors that peered anxiously at the open front door. She downed the last of her coffee as she turned off the car, hoping it would be enough to get her through what was shaping up to be a very long day. Apparently the scene beyond that front door had the potential to be a media nightmare and Sac PD had generously dumped the case on the CBI's Serious Crimes Unit.

Lisbon climbed out of her vehicle and ducked under the crime scene tape, making a beeline for a tall man standing on the front porch. "Morning, Rigsby. What have we got?" she said, joining him at the top of the steps.

"Hey Boss," he grimaced, pulling a notepad out of his jacket pocket. "Victim is the homeowner, a white female, 28, named Jessica Shaw. No sign of forced entry or struggle. LEOs are still canvassing the area but so far no one saw or heard anything until about 3:30am, which is when the neighbor on the left there," he pointed to a gentleman with a blanket around his shoulders standing behind the crime scene tape, "said the screaming woke him up and he called 911. Uniforms got here at 3:47 and everything was quiet. Front door was open and they found... well..."

Rigsby gestured at the front door, trying to come up with the words. Lisbon frowned. "Coroner confirmed time of death yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," he replied. "Still waiting for her to arrive, along with forensics. Apparently there was a triple on the east side an hour ago. Pat said to tell you she'd be here as soon as she could."

She nodded, lips twitching slightly in irritation. "Great. Cho inside?" she asked, turning to head into the house.

"Yeah," Rigsby said. "I'll be in in a minute. Gonna check on the canvas."

Lisbon walked through the front door, expecting to find the cause of everyone's skittishness, but she was instead greeted with a fairly standard living room. Well, the couch was a hideous shade of yellow, but other than that it looked fairly normal. TV; pictures of-she assumed-the victim and friends and family on the walls; and the general lived-in mess of someone too busy for regular housework.

"Cho?" she called, peering into the kitchen and wincing. Apparently the last remodel in here was the 70s, judging by the avocado-green _everything_.

"Back here, Boss. Master bedroom," came Agent Cho's voice from down the hallway. Following it to the only open door, she was forced to stop on the threshold and stare as the copper tang of blood and musky incense smell hit her nose. Her stomach rolled.

"Oh crap," she muttered, looking around and resisting the urge to cross herself. There was blood everywhere. It covered the body lying in the middle of the full-sized bed, deep slashes scattered from head to toes making a ruin of the young woman. Red splashed out from her corpse like an epicenter, the white sheets soaking in it. Somewhere she could hear a slow dripping sound.

There was back splatter on the night table and lamp, arterial spray on the headboard, and castoff on the lone dresser. The walls were drawn all over with symbols and odd runic markings in blood, covering wallpaper, windows, and paintings alike. None of them she recognized and strangest of them all a large, round smiley face with closed eyes above the fake wrought-iron headboard. It gave her a sense of dread as she looked up at its dripping smile.

"Yeah, you said it," Cho finally responded from the other side of the bed. He looked down at something on the floor, his expert poker face in place despite the carnage around them.

"There's no way this is all from her," Lisbon said, gingerly making her way over the slightly splattered hardwood floor to him. Forensics would have a litter of kittens if they contaminated anything before processing.

"It's not, they had some help." He pointed a rubber-gloved hand down to a plastic bucket at his feet, still half full with blood. "There's way more here and on the walls than our vic could have had in her. That weight I'd say, 4.9 liters, maybe?" Cho sized up the victim then looked carefully around the room. "There's at least 2 liters in this bucket, probably another three on the walls, and whatever's left doesn't even begin to account for what's soaked into the bed."

Lisbon shook her head and said, "This person came prepared, knew what they were doing, knew how long they had to get out of here and how to do it without being seen." She headed back to the door, gesturing at the walls around her. "And this, this is a whole new level of weird. I'm going to see if I can get a specialist to come take a look at the scene. Rigsby said forensics was going to be a while. Sit tight."

In the hallway she pulled her cell phone out of her blazer pocket and dialed a number. He'd probably pick up, but no way in hell would he be happy about it.

"Hey, Bosco, it's Lisbon. Sorry, I know it's late, apologize to Mandy for me. But I need a favor. Can you get me the number of the occult consultant that you mentioned was really good? … He's in your phone as 'that asshole'?"

* * *

The shrill ringing of his cell phone yanked Patrick Jane back to consciousness far too early for his liking, and he groped blearily at his bedside table for the offending noise maker. A glance at the alarm clock told him it was barely after 5am, only a few hours after he had managed to fall asleep. His insomnia had been a near nightly pestilence for years and last night had been no exception. _'Somebody had better be dead,' _he thought uncharitably as he flipped open his phone, sparing a look of irritation at the unknown number, and pressed it to his ear. "On a scale of chupacabra to zombie dire wolves how big is your problem?" he grumbled, hoping they'd either have a reasonable answer, or be intimidated into letting him sleep.

There was a short pause before the woman on the other end answered, sounding slightly thrown. "Is this uh, Patrick Jane? The... wizard?"

He couldn't help but smile. What a lovely voice to wake up to that was, despite its incredulous tone. "Speaking, previously sleeping. How can I help you, Ms... ?"

"Agent. Senior Special Agent Teresa Lisbon of the California Bureau of Investigation," she said. "Sorry to call so early, but we were hoping you could give us some insight on a murder that occurred tonight. I've heard that you sometimes consult for Sac PD on cases with an occult connection."

Jane rolled on his back and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't know I was on the CBI's consultant radar. I'm certainly not on their payroll," he hinted. If he had to get up this early in the morning to look at a dead body, he was sure well going to get payed for it. As Grace-his friend and landlord-reminded him often, he didn't get to live in her back cottage scott free, and crossing into Nevada every month for rent was a bit excessive. Also he was running out of casinos to get banned from.

This Agent Lisbon was apparently rather good at reading between the lines since she quickly replied, "The CBI would be more than happy to compensate you for your time."

"Then you have yourself a consultant, Agent Lisbon," he said, pushing the covers off and getting out of bed. "What makes you think this is occult? Did someone leave a pentagram lying around?" He'd gotten several calls for cases that had gone that route. Murderers thought they were clever trying to throw the cops off. Little did they know _drawing _a pentagram and _using_ a pentagram were two very different things. Jane grinned to himself as he pulled a suit out of his closet and started exchanging his pajama pants for slacks.

"Not that I saw, no pentagrams. There's symbols, kind of runic looking, drawn on the walls in blood-maybe the victims-and one big smiley face."

"_Maybe_ the victim's blood?" he asked, pulling his dress shirt on and buttoning it up.

She blew out a breath and said ruefully, "There's a _lot_ of blood here. Much more than one person. Whether it's human or animal-what? Hold on." He could hear her cover the phone and speak to someone for a moment before she came back. "Coroner's here, I need to go. Can I text the address to this number?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, shrugging into his vest. "Try to keep them from contaminating the body too much before I get there? There's less to read the more people touch it."

"O-kay, I'll... see what I can do."

"One last thing!" Jane said, suddenly curious. "Where did you get my number from?"

There was a small pause before she responded. "Bosco, Sam Bosco. He said you were instrumental on a case once."

"Ah. Yes, he would. Alright, thank you, I'll see you at the crime scene." He quickly hung up and pocketed his phone, reaching into his dresser for some socks. Hitching up his pants, he sat on his bed and began pulling them on. It had been a while since he'd seen Bosco, but he'd never forget the night that led him to stop giving him so much shit.

Bosco's son, a fourteen-year-old with even less sense than facial hair had picked up the wrong book in some secondhand shop and decided to try his hand at the rituals he found inside. Two possessed kids and a dead cat later, Bosco had called him, desperate enough that the consultant he liked to poke fun at in the station was now his best chance of getting his offspring off the ceiling. Patrick got there just in time to stuff the demonic joyriders back in the Hellbox they were summoned out of and keep the pair of youngsters from losing their sanity. As it was, brother and sister had both gotten enough of a scare that they'd probably never touch the occult again.

As cliches went, it was one of Patrick's most hated. "People messing with things they shouldn't" seemed to be a basic human trait they couldn't shake as a species. Patrick grimaced as he slid on his worn, brown shoes. Surely he was proof enough of that. Then again, he'd probably be out work if they didn't meddle. Honest work, at any rate. Well, honest enough.

It only took a few more minutes to finish getting ready: running a comb through his curls, getting a quick cup of tea for fortification and the like, before heading out. He locked the front door of the tiny guest house he resided in and tapped a pattern on the peep hole. His could feel his wards spring back into place around the house cleanly and, satisfied, walked out the dark backyard garden through the gate.

The house his car was parked next to was a nice one on the corner, in a quiet neighborhood of other nice houses. Large and old, with big trees in every yard, it was the type of place he certainly couldn't afford on his own. After the event that caused their friendship, Grace Van Pelt was grateful enough to him to rent him the tiny guesthouse in the back. Five years later, though, his rent was due promptly on the first and no amount of charm or smiles could save him from her ire if he was late.

He unlocked the car door and slid into the front seat of his old Citroen. The phone beeped for a new text message and he quickly pulled it out of his inside suit pocket. Jane opened the message, studying it as he started the engine. 7436 Faire Dr, Sacramento 95821. North of the river somewhere. Popping open the glovebox, he fished out a map of North Sacramento and flicked the overhead light on. In its dim glow Jane shook the paper out and smoothed the creases out on the passenger seat.

Grace kept saying he should just get a GPS instead of relying on his hokey maps, but he balked every time at the idea of mounting a plastic monstrosity on the dashboard of his beloved classic car. Besides, technology and Patrick Jane just did not get on well, and while he appreciated that the sweet redhead was a lightsaber shy of being a technopagan, it didn't mean he was willing to put such faith in the stuff.

Without much difficulty he found his destination, flicked off the light, and folded the map back. After stuffing it back in the glovebox he signaled and pulled away from the curb. It shouldn't take him more than forty minutes to get there at this hour of the morning, and he had a feeling this Agent Lisbon didn't like to be kept waiting.

* * *

Lisbon was carefully going through some paperwork on the victim's dining table when a uniformed officer poked his head into the house. "There's a Patrick Jane at the tape for you. Says he's a consultant? He didn't have a badge," he said.

She sighed and stood up, grateful for the break. "Yeah, he's with us. New guy, no badge yet. I'll come get him," replied Lisbon as she stripped off her latex gloves. So far nothing in the victim's personal possessions had offered a clue as to motive. According to everything they had found thus far she was a yoga instructor that came home one night and died horribly.

Pushing that to the side in her head, she walked out to the porch and looked where the officer helpfully pointed. A blonde man in a three piece suit was studying the flowers in the front bed, the lightening sky washing the yard with a soft, yellow light. Despite everything it was probably going to be a lovely spring morning. "Mr. Jane!" she called, beckoning to him when he looked up.

Quickly he left off his examination of the lavender and walked over, nearly bounding up the front steps. "Agent Lisbon, I presume?" he asked, holding out his hand with a bright smile on his unexpectedly handsome face.

"Yes. Thank you for coming on such short notice," Lisbon said, shaking his hand. A funny tingle warmed her palm and she let go of his hand. Resisting the urge to rub her hand against her jeans, she waved to the door, ignoring how his smile seemed to widen a fraction. "Sorry again to pull you out of bed at this hour but we don't have a, uh... an expert in weird on the payroll. The Bureau normally frowns on hiring psychics, but we could really use some background information on these types of practices. Detective Bosco assures me that you're very knowledgeable."

"Really, he did? That must have been like pulling teeth," Jane remarked, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets and studying her. "Also I'm not a psychic."

She smiled in amusement. "Because there's no such thing as psychics?"

"Ah, no, there are, I'm just not one of them, though I could probably pretend I was rather convincingly." Jane pulled a hand out of his pocket and gesticulated through the air with it as he spoke. "Mostly I use observation and Sight to pick up on what others miss. Throw in a pinch of magecraft and a very diverse skill set, et voila, you get me." He smiled unrepentantly and shrugged at the look on her face. "You can find me in the yellow pages under 'wizard' though, so we could just put that down on the forms I'll have to sign later, mm?"

"Right. A wizard. I thought Bosco was _joking._" Lisbon said, her expression halfway between stunned and incredulous. Wondering what nonsense she was getting herself into, she settled her countenance and waved her arm at the door. "Shall we?"

"Sure, might as well," he said amicably enough, gesturing for her to go first.

She led him in the living room and paused to look back at him when he stopped in the entryway. The smile had disappeared from his face and his eyes darted around the room, large and serious.

"Do you want to go right back to the bedroom or look around the house? Coroner took liver temp and went for coffee. And not happily, I'd like to add," she added, frowning. Was he going to move from that spot?

Truthfully, Jane was playing for time. The second he stepped over the threshold of that house the miasma of black magic was like a punch to the face. Someone had done something sick and evil here and it could be felt, the invisible energies drifting through the air like oily dust motes. It was making his skin crawl and he was barely in the door.

Sliding on a expression self assurance, he bolstered his mental shields until the sick feeling in his stomach eased and smiled at Agent Lisbon. "Let's get the worst bit over with, shall we? Back there?" he asked, pointing down the dim hallway.

She nodded and led him to the room at the end, stepping aside to allow him to enter and look about, and to allow _her_ to watch his face. Cho and Rigsby were inside taking pictures of the scene. Both looked up curiously at their appearance. She had told her team immediately after securing Mr. Jane's services. Rigsby had looked just as sceptical as she felt about calling in someone that advertised themselves as a wizard. Cho had remained silent about the matter.

Jane's gaze flicked immediately up to the red smile looming down on the occupants. Despite Jessica's body (now tastefully covered in a plastic sheet) centered in the middle of the room, that face still drew the eye. Lisbon wasn't quite unnerved by it enough to shudder, but she did momentarily touch the gold cross at her neck. Her new consultant glanced at her curiously before turning to incline his head at the other men in the room.

"I'm Patrick Jane, hi," he said with a strained smile.

Rigsby nodded back. "I'm Agent Wayne Rigsby. That's Agent Cho."

"Hey," Cho said evenly before going back to photographing the markings on the wall.

"Riiight." Jane stepped up to the bed and lifted the plastic tarp to the side. Rigsby paused to watch him.

Holding a hand over the victim's face, Jane looked her up and down. With a mental twist he pulled up his magesight, allowing him to see the energies in the room. They coated her and the bed in a film like the blood drying on her skin. Oily and grey like greasy soot, they confirmed what his gut told him the second he walked in the door.

"So," Jane continued. "Agent Rigsby thinks I'm a fraud and probably more than half mad. Agent Cho is quite a bit concerned that I'm for real and this was actually witchcraft." Ignoring the uneasy looks on the men's faces, he carefully he flipped the tarp back over Jessica Shaw's body and looked speculatively at Agent Lisbon. "And despite trying to ignore that nagging little voice inside, _you_ know something real happened here. You're right, by the way. You should really listen to your instincts more, Agent Lisbon."

Lisbon opened her mouth to respond to his ridiculous assumptions but Cho beat her to the punch. "Was it actually witchcraft? What really happened?" he asked, looking-for him-almost worried.

Jane turned to look at him, obviously pleased to have been asked. "Yes it was, and... I'm not entirely sure yet. I think the answer will lie in the translation of these runes. Good call on their being runes too. Who made the connection?"

Lisbon sighed. "Me. I thought they looked like... druid scribbles." Mr. Jane looked back at her keenly, making her feel like she'd been put in a spotlight.

Fortunately Rigsby had apparently been watching too many Mel Brooks movies recently. "Funny, they don't look druish," he quipped.

Jane smiled at him, amused. "Now the real question is, have you taken pictures of under the bed yet?"

"Under the bed?" Rigsby looked questioningly at Cho, who shook his head. "Nope, should we have?" he asked.

"I have a feeling you're going to need to move it to get a proper look," Jane said.

Lisbon stepped forward before the other two could move more than a step towards the bed. "Hold on, let's see if there's even anything under there." Pulling a small flashlight from her pocket she kneeled down, lifting the sheet up carefully. As she peered under the full bed she could feel a pair of eyes skimming over her backside interestedly. "Jane," she warned, knowing full well it wouldn't be the other two.

"Sorry," he muttered, sounding rather not sorry at all while Rigsby made a slight choking noise.

Lisbon rolled her eyes and bent over to get a better look. What the beam from the flashlight illuminated made her jerk back in surprise. "We need to move the bed." Standing up she considered how best to go about this and pointed to the open area to the left of the bed. "Did forensics finish over there?"

"Yeah, finished everything," Cho replied, setting his camera down on a hamper in the corner. "The took their own pictures, samples of the blood splatter, a few hairs, and what little fingerprints there were. Mostly the place was wiped clean. These are just the close ups of each symbol you wanted."

"Good. You and Rigsby _very carefully _lift and move it. Do your best not to jostle the body. Pat's already upset I asked for the delay," she said, taking Rigsby's camera from him and stepping out of the way to stand next to Jane.

Cho and Rigsby each took an end of the bed, gingerly lifted it a few inches, and walked it to the side. It took only a few feet before the bed revealed its hidden evidence and the men set the bed down to stare at it. Another symbol, this one burnt into the hardwood. It was pentacle, but heavily modified. Words none of them recognized were written in a blocky hand around the outside of the circle and inside the circle more symbols filled in the blank places between lines. It was a sickly, ominous thing in a room already filled with ominous things.

"Well," said Jane evenly. "I could use some tea." He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway, headed for the kitchen.

Lisbon turned to her subordinates and handed Rigsby back his camera. "Document everything. Take samples of the wood burn. Finish taking pictures. We're going to work this like _every_ other case, no matter what some mad wizard says. I'm going to get Pat in here to take the body; you just give her the samples to take back with her. After you finish up with that, get back to the office and start pulling up everything you can find on Jessica Shaw."

"Yes, Boss," they both responded.

"Meanwhile, I'm going to go pick Gandalf's brain," she sighed, turning to go after her shiny new consultant.

"Really, Boss?" Rigsby called after her. "That was a little nerdy."

"Hush!"

* * *

The tiny kitchen was a wonderfully peaceful spot (despite the horrendous colour) in that house, and Jane was all too happy to hunt through the cabinets until he found a well-used teapot. Filling it with water, he set it on the burner to boil and started digging through the victim's extensive tea collection drawer. It was in this state Agent Lisbon found him, trying to decide between camomile and oolong.

"Hey!" she said, making him glance up. "That's evidence! You can't drink that."

"Nonsense," he rolled his eyes. "They didn't come in here once. And before you ask, no, I can't pull information out of day old tea leafs." He jerked his thumb at the sink just as the kettle started whistling. "Do you want a cup?" he asked, pulling the kettle off and snagging a mug from the dish drainer.

"No!" She replied, scandalized.

"Mm, pity. This camomile smells heavenly, very calming." He continued making his cup while she leaned against the fridge, watching him moodily.

"What did you mean 'they?'" she asked, suddenly realizing what he said.

Jane turned to face her, putting the weight of his hips back against the counter. He carefully took a sip of his tea before answering her. "The writing on the wall has two distinctive finger sizes in the blood. Rituals like this are sacrificial, taking a life in exchange for something. I'm not familiar with any of those runes though so I can't tell you what was exchanged for her life and-" The ringing of his phone interrupted him loudly. He fumbled it out of his coat pocket with one hand and looked at the name.

Madeleine Hightower. Shit.

"I uh, _have_ to take this, sorry," he apologized to Lisbon, setting down his mug before stepping into the living room to answer the call.

"Madeleine, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Jane asked, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Good morning, Patrick. I'm sorry to call so early but I heard you were already awake." He could hear the smile in the woman's voice and despite his better judgement he rolled his eyes. Sure enough... "Patrick Jane, don't you roll your eyes at me. This situation is not something I can ignore. I'm going to need you to drop by with your new friend."

He rubbed his thumb against his index finger, eyes flicking towards the kitchen doorway. He could hear the quiet clink of china and pouring water coming from the kitchen, and smiled slightly. Apparently she was unbending enough to get a cup of tea. Probably the strong stuff, too. "You want me to bring Agent Lisbon?" he clarified.

"Yes I do."

"Why?" Jane was incredulous. Teresa Lisbon was by no means aware of the existence of the Red Council, and Madeleine Hightower asking him to bring her along was practically ridiculous.

Typically, she ignored the question. "I'll expect you both within an hour."

"We just met, she's not going to come with me just because you want her to. What, do you expect me to _hypnotize_ her into coming? She's a grown woman, and a _cop_. With a _gun_." Despite the fact that Jane very probably could do just that, the idea made him feel strangely uncomfortable. Hypnotizing smug idiots that deserved it for comeuppance was one thing. Doing that to pretty law officers with fascinating green eyes was entirely another.

Madeleine sighed, exasperated. "Fine. Teresa Lisbon, CBI, right?" He could hear her flipping through pages, probably one of her Reference Books. "Ah, she works for Virgil, lovely. I'll give him a call. Now, get out here." She hung up.

Childishly, he made a face at the phone before tucking it back in his pocket. This, was probably not going to go well. Jane walked back to the kitchen and leaned against the door jam. Agent Lisbon was cradling a mug between her hands. Irish Breakfast, of course.

She looked up when he cleared his throat. He looked speculatively at Agent Lisbon for a moment, tapping his lips with one finger before gesturing at her with it. "So... how are you with dragons?"


	2. In Which Lisbon Has Coffee With a Dragon

**A/N: **Sorry about the wait, the beginning of this chapter gave me some trouble. Thank you so much to everyone that reviewed. I felt so encouraged by your kind words! Again, thank you to my amazingly perf beta TheAmethystRiddle (go read his stuff it's wonderful!) for proofreading this into something presentable.

**Blood Rites**

**Chapter Two: In Which Lisbon Has Coffee With a Dragon**

_She looked up when he cleared his throat. He looked speculatively at Agent Lisbon for a moment, tapping his lips with one finger before gesturing at her with it. "So... how are you with dragons?"_

Lisbon barely had a chance to wonder if he'd forgotten his medication that morning before he waved his hand. "Sorry, stupid question," he said, snagging his tea mug off the counter; he took a hasty sip. "I have a uh, friend that just called and she would like us to stop by her place to give us some information. At least I'm assuming it's information. When she goes all cryptic and bossy she either has news she doesn't like or she's fighting with her husband again."

She stared at him. "A friend. I'm assuming from your magic community?" she said, twiddling her fingers at him.

"Mm, yes." He looked amused. "Although think less of community and more of a daycare with sporadically attentive nannies."

"Did it occur to you that someone that just _happens_ to have information on a murder that occurred," she glanced at her watch, "maybe three hours ago, and calls _you_ about it instead of, I don't know, _the police_ just _might_ have something to do with it?"

Jane chuckled a little. "That's not possible."

"Please, tell me why." She set her cup down and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Because if Madeleine Hightower _had_ had anything to do with this murder, the statistical chance that you would have _found_ a body rounds to zero. There would be no evidence in this house. There might not even _be_ a house." The wizard shrugged and shoved a hand in his pants pocket. "And anyways, some nobody yoga teacher with barely enough power to bless her flower garden? Meh, Madeleine probably didn't even know she existed."

"How did _you_ know the victim taught yoga?" Lisbon asked quickly.

Jane waved a hand back at the living room. "Class picture on the table next to that awful couch; employee of the month certificate for a Westside Gym on the bookshelf. The callouses on the victim's feet."

Lisbon nodded, impressed. A neighbor that took her classes had volunteered the information to the SVU,

"So back to this Hightower person, she just wants us to... drop by?"

"Yes," Jane said, setting his cup down in the sink with a light clink. "Preferably we leave now. Normally I'm all for tweaking her tail, but there's nothing left here to look at and I'm done with my tea."

Lisbon's expression turned into one of incredulous amusement. "You're _bored_, so we should just go?"

"Well, yes, I mean-" Jane's answer was cut off by the loud ringing of Lisbon's cell phone. "Ah, that will be your boss," he said, suddenly re-interested in the mail heaped on the counter.

She pulled her phone out and looked at the caller ID. Minelli. Shooting Jane a suspicious look, she answered it quickly. "Morning, Boss."

"Agent Lisbon, morning," Virgil Minelli said, sounding exasperated. "Look, I just got a call from a Madeleine Hightower. She says that you've hired one of her people as a consultant?"

Lisbon was taken aback. "It's a weird case, I thought some insight would be helpful. The budget's good for it. Besides," she added defensively, "I didn't know I _was_ hiring her people."

The consultant in question looked up indignantly. "I am _not!_" he interjected. She quickly shushed him with one finger.

"It's alright, that's not the problem," Minelli said. "The problem is that Ms. Hightower is very connected and very interested in this case. She _requested_ that you stop by with this Mr. Jane at your earliest convenience."

"Earliest convenience, riiight," she said, glaring at Jane, who leaned against the counter and smiled politely at her. Suddenly Bosco's contact information for him was starting to make sense. "Is there something I need to know about this case, sir?"

"I expect that's what she'll tell you. Right now I don't know anything more than you do, but I'll expect a full report when you get back." Minelli sighed. "Look she's kind of an old family friend, and she's got her fingers in a lot of pies, important pies. Going to see her for free information isn't going to kill you, and you might just get something out of it."

"Yes, sir," she said resignedly, watching in irritation as Jane's smile widened. Minelli hung up, apparently satisfied with her cooperation, and she shoved her phone back in her pocket.

"You knew she was going to call Minelli," she said, shaking her head at Jane.

"Eeeh." The wizard shrugged dismissively. "Saves time convincing you to come with a strange man you've just met to an unknown location for cryptic reasons at the say-so of an unknown woman. Let's be honest, I would never have gotten you out of this house."

Lisbon rolled her eyes and headed to the front door. "Bosco warned me I'd have the urge to shoot you. Come on. Might as well get this over with."

He followed her out of the house, still grinning. Despite his irritation with Madeleine's imperious manner, the fact that she had started moving people about like chess pieces meant that this was big. Normally she was much more subtle. Combining her reaction with the brutality of both the magic and violence displayed in this murder was giving him some interesting theories to work with. Added in the new acquaintance of Agent Lisbon? Losing sleep over today was looking more worth it by the second.

Lisbon ducked under the crime scene tape and walked up to a woman sipping coffee and leaning against the coroner's van. "Hey Pat, we're done in there. Body's all yours," she said.

"Did he do anything weird with it?" The woman looked Jane up and down suspiciously as he hovered on the edge of the conversation.

He waved cheekily at her before looking around the neighborhood in interest. The small crowd had dissipated sometime while they'd been inside. Only one police car was left, its officer idly keeping an eye on a lone forensic tech looking through the front bushes.

"Not that I saw," Lisbon said to Pat. "We moved the bed a little, but the body wasn't disturbed. They guys are finishing up inside. Probably be another twenty minutes. I need to leave though, can you tell them for me?"

"Sure," Pat finished her coffee and tossed the paper cup through the open door of the van. "He's not staying here, is he?" She chucked her chin in Jane's direction.

"No, he's coming with me on an interview."

Jane glanced over at the ladies. "Technically you're coming with me. And I should drive. You don't even know where we're going," he called.

Pat turned from pulling the gurney out of back of the van to raise her eyebrow at Lisbon and the agent sighed. She had been hoping to not have to explain the situation. "Agent Minelli got a call from a... mutual friend of theirs who might have information on the case. Boss wants us to speak with her."

To cover her self consciousness, Lisbon scanned the street around her and pulled her keys out of her pocket. "Looks like Rigsby came here with Cho. Can you give him these and tell him to drive the SUV back to the station for me? This might take a while."

Pat took the keys, holding back a smile. "Sure. I'll send the autopsy results up to your office probably by late tonight or tomorrow morning. That triple is going to push me way back."

Lisbon nodded. "Thanks."

Turning, she found her consultant watching her. "Alright," she said to him. "Let's go." Might as well get this over with so she could get back to the normal police work she was comfortable with, and get away from this man's intense gaze. It felt disconcertingly like he could see right through her with those blue-green eyes. That was the last thing she needed

Whatever he saw made a corner of his mouth turn up and he nodded. "This way." He led her down the street to a blue Citroen. As he pulled out his keys she stopped and stared.

"Wait? _This_ is what you drive?" she said, horrified.

Jane looked from her face to the car and back again. "What's wrong with it? It's a classic!" He opened the doors for them and slid in.

"Classic _deathtrap_, maybe," Lisbon muttered as she pulled the door handle and got in gingerly, as if she was afraid the car would fall apart underneath her.

"There is nothing wrong with my car, I'll have you know. It's perfectly safe," Jane said, sounding offended as he fastened his seat belt and started the car.

Lisbon was unconvinced. "I've seen pop cans with better safety regulations." She clicked her seat belt into place with an air of trepidation. "Does this thing even _have_ airbags?"

Jane put the car into gear and shook his head in playful disgust. "Just for that, you can _sit_ on your hundred-and-one questions about Madeleine until we get there, Agent Lisbon."

* * *

True to his word, Jane had refused to answer a single question about their destination, either by evasively dodging the question, or smiling to himself and staying silent. It was infuriating to Lisbon, and made worse by the fact that the man had the worst driving skills she'd ever seen. She was fairly certain that he had nearly caused an accident twice on purpose to stop her from asking questions while her heart recovered. Finally she gave up and lapsed into silence, hoping that in exchange he wouldn't kill them both.

Jane watched her out of the corner of his eye while he drove down the freeway, noting the occasional stamp on the "invisible passenger brake" when he did anything reckless. He couldn't seem to stop himself from poking at her buttons. One minute in her presence and he had her pegged for the control freak type. Probably an older sibling, in charge of kids in a single parent home, judging by that firm sense of authority.

"So, Agent Tereeeza Liiiiisbon," he said, drawing out her name until she glanced at him, annoyed, before staring out the window again. "Lisbon it is then. Who called in a wizard. Odd choice for a Catholic, but you do seem like you could be the 'thinks outside the box' type. Makes sense that you would leave SacPD to pursue the caliber of cases you would see at the CBI."

Now she did turn to face him, frowning. "Are you trying to make me believe you can read my mind? Or did you pick up my file somewhere?"

He chuckled. "No, nothing like that. Mind reading without permission is very frowned upon; even if it _was_ one of my skills I wouldn't be using it for something so easy. No what I do is called cold reading. I just observe what's around me and... infer from there."

"You watch people and you _guess_," she said, grabbing the safety strap as Jane veered across three lanes.

He didn't quite huff, but it was a near thing. "You make it sound so _boring._ Besides my 'guesses' are nearly always right." Merging the car onto the off ramp, he took a right and headed into a neighborhood filled with rich, estate houses.

Lisbon felt relieved. Con men masquerading as magicians she could deal with as long as they proved useful. "So that bit about magic and the rest was just smoke, mirrors, and quackery?"

"Not at all," he said, turning the Citroen into a gated concrete driveway and idling next to an intercom box. Jane rolled the window down and pressed the call button. His fingers drummed restlessly against the side of the car as he leaned back to wait. "This might take a minute."

Lisbon nodded and turned to study the gates. They were massive wrought iron fixtures set in a solid brick wall that stretched as far down the left and right property lines as she could see. Apparently the minimalist approach was in mode here as there wasn't much in the way of decoration aside from two large, clay urns flanking the entrance on both sides. Even at this hour with the sun shining bright overhead, fire crackled merrily out of the top of them.

It seemed like a waste to her, but anyone that could afford one of these posh places probably didn't even notice the expense. Peering through the gates, she could just make out the corner of a large building around the bend of the long driveway. The rest of what was visible was shaggy grass and a some very large trees, making it look more like a park than a home from this view.

The buzz of the intercom pulled her attention back. "Yes?" said a man.

"Patrick Jane and Agent Teresa Lisbon to see Hightower. We're expected." He added the last part rather quickly. Lisbon wondered if he thought he wouldn't be let in otherwise. There was certainly a long enough pause before there was a response.

"Present tokens," the man's voice said, decidedly more frosty than it had been before and with that cryptic remark the line went dead. Jane rolled the car forward until the door was even with one of the urns and turned to face his passenger.

"I'm going to need a hair. From your head." He ran his fingers through his curls and held up a loose blond hair. "Like that."

She blinked. "You're kidding."

"'Fraid not."

"What _for_?"

He was starting to get used to her looking at him like he was mad. "The urn burns it for an identification spell. DNA doesn't change even if you're wearing an illusion, so it's far more accurate than fingerprinting or other nonsense." He leaned out the window and tossed the hair into it. The fire sparked red for a moment, popping like he had used pitch instead.

She still hesitated, so he held out his hand. "They're not going to let us in otherwise," he said.

Lisbon was starting to wonder how many more times this morning she would regret making that phone call. Instead of things being clarified, she felt like they were just getting more complicated, and much more ridiculous. It wasn't even 10 am. She certainly hadn't had enough coffee for this.

With a sigh she buried her fingers in her dark locks. Jane thought it was hardly fair how distracting that was as she slid them through her hair a few times before coming up with one. He plucked it from her fingers and deposited it in the flames. For a brief second they flashed green before resuming their cheerful orangey flicker. Jane barely had a moment to hum in interest before the giant gates creaked open on mechanical hinges.

"You know what doesn't make sense about you, Lisbon?" Jane asked as he slowly drove the car through the gateway and down the driveway.

Her face flickered warily as she studied the large, three-storied brick manor house coming into view. "What?"

"You're not a practitioner, but you have exceptionally tight shields-which I checked when we shook hands; sorry if I zapped you, I just had to be sure." Lisbon tightened her fingers at the memory of that odd flutter that ran up her hand. She wouldn't have called it a _zap_.

"You scoff at wizards and psychics," he said as he parked the car in front of a grand looking entrance flanked by stone pillars and well manicured topiaries, "but you've never once said 'There's no such _thing _as _magic_!' as you should have if you believed it. Why is that?"

"There's no such thing as magic," Lisbon said flatly and got out of the Citroen, hoping to end the conversation.

Jane was smiling as he hopped out and shut his door. "Needs more denial in the middle, but it was a good first attempt." He followed her up the steps and briskly knocked on the door. "Do you want to try again?"

"Butt out, Jane," she snapped, glaring up at him. Perversely, her mind started to wonder what color his eyes were exactly-blue or green, she really couldn't decide, maybe it was both?-before the door opened and she looked away. The quicker this was over with the quicker she could get rid of the man. His poking and prying about subjects not the least bit relevant to the case were the last things she needed.

A proper looking young fellow in a butler's uniform held open one of the double doors and inclined his head to Lisbon as they stepped past him into a large wood-paneled foyer worthy of an old English manor house. "Agent Lisbon, thank you for coming." He shut the door behind them, transferred his gaze to Jane, and gave him a much chillier examination. "Mr. Jane, I _had_ hoped you would be banned from the premise forever."

Jane slid a smile on his face, pleased with the distraction. "James, nice to see you, as always. I see they bought you a new suit, looks very nice," the wizard said to him.

James sniffed dismissively and focused back on Lisbon. "If you both will come with me, Lady Hightower is in the library." He turned on his heel and headed down a hallway.

"What did you _do_?" Lisbon whispered curiously to Jane as they followed their guide.

He shrugged innocently. "Nothing, he's overreacting," Jane said quietly.

"He set fire to the third floor guest bathroom," came the butler's supercilious voice from ahead of them, leading them down another hallway past some impressionist paintings.

"You _what?_" Lisbon hissed, eyes wide.

"I didn't.. I didn't set fire to the bathroom; that was just an unfortunate _side effect_ of a very helpful experiment," Jane protested while Lisbon stared at him. "Technically the fire was Mimi's fault for missing the book in the tub and hitting the shower curtain with her breath." He mimed breathing fire with one hand at Lisbon as they came to a halt in front of another set of double doors.

"With her _breath_?" Lisbon asked, feeling off balance in yet another conversation with him. She was starting to suspect he was doing it on purpose. Surely he wasn't suggesting that this Mimi breathed fire?

James opened the doors as Jane said, like it was a perfectly reasonable answer, "Well, she _is_ only ten; her aim's not so good yet."

"Don't you dare blame my daughter for that mess, Patrick. I had to redo the entire bathroom because of your scheme," said a woman's voice from inside the room, and Lisbon tore her gaze from Jane's face to find the speaker. A sharp looking woman in a power suit was seated behind a massive, wooden desk in an even more massive room. Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling along every wall, interspersed with windows on three of them, giving Lisbon the impression that it took up the entire back half of the house. It was a bright and warm room, despite being so huge, and filled with more books than any five Barnes and Nobles put together.

"_Helpful experiment_," Jane said pointedly, striding into the room. Lisbon hurried to keep up with him and James shut the doors behind them. "And it's not like the flame retardant didn't work; the book was fine, which was really the question anyway. Madeleine, this is Teresa Lisbon of the CBI. Agent Lisbon, Madeleine Hightower." Pleased with his neat segue, Jane sat down in one of the two comfy chairs in front of the desk.

The woman behind the desk stood and offered her hand, which Lisbon firmly shook. "Agent Lisbon, I'm pleased to meet you. Virgil had only good things to say about you," Hightower said with a smile. "I'm sorry to strongarm you over here like this but it was necessary. Please." She gestured to the seat behind Lisbon.

"I'll have to admit this is the first time information gathering has felt like a mob boss interview," the agent said, sitting down while Jane looked back and forth between them with interest.

"Yes, well, when I found out Patrick was involved, I decided to move before things got out of hand. Can I offer you some coffee? Tea?" Madeleine asked, taking her own seat.

"No thank you, we just-"

Jane interrupted Lisbon's attempt to decline quickly. "I'll take some tea, of course, and she could really use some coffee."

"Cream, sugar?" she asked Lisbon, picking up a tablet and tapping on it.

Lisbon gave up and rolled her eyes. "Two sugars, please, and are you _sure_ he can't read minds?"

Madeline finished typing and set the pad down, looking across the desk at Lisbon in wry amusement. "We're sure. _That _we could forbid him to do, and enforce it. This, however, is him being a know-it-all and a show off; unfortunately no one has ever been able to curb him from _that_."

He smiled benignly at her, leaning back in his chair. "Speaking of knowing it all, what _did_ the seers have to say this morning?"

A shadow flitted across Hightower's face as Lisbon looked from her to Jane. "Seers? What are you talking about?"

Hightower frowned at him and laced her fingers together before looking back to Lisbon. "This is a very delicate situation, you understand, and in order for you to be properly prepared to deal with it you're going to have to accept a few things that might stretch your imagination." She waited while Lisbon considered her words before nodding for her to continue.

"First of all," Hightower said, "Magic is real, and there are people that can use it."

Jane watched in interest as one of Lisbon's hands slowly fisted in her lap. She had gone still, but it didn't look like she was about to start shouting in denial. _Interesting..._ he thought.

After a moment Hightower went on. "Secondly, not everyone uses it for good things, and that's where the Councils come in. Sacramento is in Red Council jurisdiction and we-along with Blue, Green, and Gold in other places-act as a government for those with magic. We keep an eye on things, and try to stop problems from getting out of hand."

She broke off as James came back in the room with a tray of drinks and passed them out, coffees for Hightower and Lisbon, and tea for Jane. Lisbon took her cup gratefully and immediately took a sip, finding comfort in the bitter familiarity of coffee. Jane's tea was cold, which he thought was rather petty of James and valiantly refrained from glaring at him as the butler left the room.

"Like I said," Jane said, playing with his teacup. "Sporadically attentive nannies. Unless someone starts screaming murder, the less important things slip through the cracks."

Lisbon looked up at his tone of voice. If there was one thing she knew, it was the way someone sounded sad over something they couldn't fix. Apparently they had both had important things slip through the cracks, and her heart went out to him. Her bad memories or not, this case needed to be dealt with. Even if it meant facing the truth, which was something she had been avoiding for a very, very long time, and she hated avoiding things.

"Even magic can't fix everything," Lisbon said quietly. Jane's gaze snapped up to meet hers, and they stared at each other for a few seconds.

Hightower watched in rapt interest as first the corner of Jane's mouth turned up and then Lisbon's. Holding his stone cold tea cup up to his lips, he blew on it. The tiny application of a warming spell through his fingertips and steam was suddenly curling out of the top of the cup. Lisbon watched it unfurl, a charmed smile on her lips.

"It can fix some things," he said, shrugging almost modestly. Madeleine's face caught his eye and seeing her expression hastily took a sip, nearly burning his tongue.

Hightower quickly hid her smile. Watching Patrick Jane be flustered was certainly the best thing she'd seen all month, but teasing him about it was certainly a bad idea. He would just clam up at best or refuse to work with Agent Lisbon at worst. Actually worst was probably more in the range of setting fire to her house again, but she was trying to be optimistic. If anything was bringing Jane out of his shell, she wasn't about to discourage it.

"So, ignoring Patrick's rather unflattering opinion of us, we do _try_ to keep an eye on things. A good number of practitioners do Dawn Rites and if the ones with foresight see something at that time that they think I should know, some of them write it down for me and it shows up immediately in my books." She patted a hand on one of the several leather bound books resting on her desk.

"How?" Lisbon seemed to have recovered from her previously unsure demeanor and was sliding back into cop mode.

"Things that get written down end up in my books. I just have to know where to look to find the information I need. It's part of the magic of my hoard," Hightower said.

"Your... hoard?" Lisbon asked.

"The library is my hoard," the other woman smiled in sly amusement. "The Red Council was originally founded by a red dragon clan. My family branch settled out here about 160 years ago."

"You're a... dragon," Lisbon said slowly. She glanced at Jane to make sure Hightower wasn't pulling her leg.

He grinned. "A dragon with a library hoard. She's a bookwyrm!" It had the intended effect and Lisbon groaned at his pun, sidetracked from her disbelief.

Madeleine glared at him. "It wasn't clever the first time someone thought of it; it certainly wasn't clever when you did."

"Will still thinks it's funny," Jane smiled unrepentantly.

"My son is seven," she said dryly. "He's not exactly a good judge of quality humor yet."

"Really Jane, that was bad," said Lisbon, shaking her head. Madeline smiled at her appreciatively and Jane quickly backpedaled before they joined forces.

"Back to my original question, what did the seers see?" Jane set his cup down on the desk and leaned forward. "You called me maybe forty-five minutes after sunrise. You don't react that fast unless there's a mass sensing. And why even call _me?_"

Hightower opened a fat, brown leather clad book and pushed it across her desk at him. Lisbon leaned over her chair arm to peer at the book as Jane transferred it to his lap. That macabre face smiled up at her from the pages and again she had to control the urge to shudder. Jane flipped through the book but there were precious few other notes. A scribbled "He is man." Another that read "returned." But on each page there was that smile.

When he reached the final page with writing, Jane closed the book and handed it back to Madeleine. "Twenty-three. Damn." Catching sight of Lisbon's confused look, he explained, "The future is nebulous and constantly changing. Trying to get a proper look at it is annoying, so foreseers often use magically charged points in the day to look, like sunrise, and they often get nothing for their troubles. Twenty-three people having the _same_ view of that murder?" He shook his head and leaned back, tapping his lips in thought.

Lisbon turned back to Hightower. "Why _did_ you call him?"

Hightower sighed. "I called the switchboard to find out who was the officer in charge, and they gave me your name, and the names of your team, including his. Imagine my surprise. Personally I would have called Kristina Frye, she's much less of a hassle than this one."

Jane looked up from his musing to make a face. "Kristina doesn't know how to function without her powers. Anyone that relies on magic as much as she does is a fool. Besides, I'm much better at this than her and you know it."

Ignoring him, Hightower leaned forward on her desk with a slightly triumphant smile. "I'd like it if he could continue to consult on this case until it's resolved. I talked to Virgil and he agreed to hire him in a slightly more permanent capacity, if you were okay with it."

Lisbon glanced at Jane, but he was watching her with a neutral expression. For a moment she was inclined to say no. He was trouble, she could feel it in her bones, the kind of trouble that attracted more trouble. But he was also quick, and challenging, and God help her she _liked_ that. And despite the fact that he seemed to like annoying her, there was also that moment earlier when had she felt like they had made sense to each other.

Apparently her decision was easily read since Jane's face lit up. _And that, _Lisbon thought, part of her dazed by his smile._ There is that too._

"This'll be fun; you won't regret this, Lisbon," he said, feeling strangely buoyant. He should be outraged with Hightower ordering him about like he was one of her lackeys. Not that he wasn't planning on helping Lisbon with her case, but it was the principle of the thing.

"I have a feeling I will..." the agent muttered and Jane looked miffed.

"You will," Hightower said, amused. "Now, is there anything else before I send you back?"

Jane looked back at her. "Ah, runes. The crime scene was all over with them in blood. The transference spell was weird too; it felt... old. So anything you can give us on those."

Hightower hummed and stood up, crossing the room to a bookshelf. While she perused the shelves, Jane leaned over and tapped Lisbon's arm. "Are you alright with this? Really," he said, his eyes searched her face. Lisbon thought he looked oddly vulnerable for a brief moment. Maybe she was seeing things.

"Yeah, sure," she said, surprising herself with a half smile. "We have a mystical, portent-inducing serial killer on the loose, and your boss is a dragon. No problem." Jane grinned at her, pleased.

Hightower came back with three smaller books and they stood up. Ignoring Jane reaching for them, she gave them to Lisbon. "These should help, or at least give you clues on translation. I'm giving these to you to hold onto, so keep them in your office. Patrick's not allowed around the books unsupervised anymore." Quirking her lip in an almost private smile, Hightower offered her hand. "It was lovely to meet you."

Lisbon shook Hightower's hand again and said, "Thank you. It was... nice to meet you." She really didn't know know what to say about the rest. Half of what she heard she wasn't sure she believed, and the rest she didn't want to have to think about. It made her very eager to get back to the CBI and do her job.

Jane and Hightower said their goodbyes and James was called to escort them out. As the door closed behind them, Lisbon sighed. Jane stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and looked down at the petite cop. "Well," he said. "I think you handled that nicely. No panic or denial just... very calm, well done."

Lisbon ignored his curious look and rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's get back to the CBI. I need to think of what to tell my team, so don't _drive so fast_."

Jane grinned as she walked down the steps. "Not a chance," he said and followed her to the car.

**A/N:** Thank for reading, please review if you have the time!


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